


Comforts Of Home

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Ass Play, Cunnilingus, F/M, Poly!verse, RPF, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poly!verse.  Will's bad day changes date night plans.  H/C and sexy times with Mia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comforts Of Home

The kitchen looks like a fish market had exploded inside of it.

Will stands in the middle of the carnage, covered in flecks of rice and bits of flesh and strips of nori, apron-clad and gloves up to his elbows, and he's forced to accept that after an hour and a half all he has to show for his efforts are a few rolls that look like a four year old had made them. He doesn't have a back-up plan, Mia is on her way, his phone won't stop buzzing, and he is about ten seconds away from having a meltdown. He's been counting down to said meltdown all day, so he doesn't even know why he's surprised; how silly of him to think that the day might have improved at some point.

And then Mia lets herself in, shouting, "Will?" because she has a key and he obviously hadn't heard the bell go off because he's drowning in his own ineptitude, duh.

She walks into the kitchen, stopping just past the threshold. She looks gorgeous—jeans splattered with color and sparkle, a layered tank top and off the shoulder sweatshirt combo wrapped around her torso, and her hair fluffed up and dyed neatly back to its original color, minus two streaks of magenta framing her neck. She has a brown bag in one hand and her purse in the other and a curious look on her face.

"Oh," she says. "Shit, babe, what's up?"

Will can't help it. He picks up his phone, gesturing wildly. "My niece split her lip on a table this morning and my sister has been freaking all day, and I—I wanted to make you sushi because I know how much you love it but this handy dandy sushi rolling kit Chris bought us last Christmas is the exact _opposite_ of handy and—"

"Hey," she says, putting the bag down on the island with a clunk. She circles the mess and takes his phone and the fillet knife from his hand and then slides her arms around his waist. "Hey, chill out. Is she okay, your niece?"

"Yeah, but my sister thought it would be a good idea to send pictures from the hospital and— _ugh_ , I hate not being there," he says. He's been by himself all day, trying to be calm about things, and so it takes a few moments to wilt under the comfort of the hug, but when he does he feels about nine years old and ten times better, tucking himself down into her compact softness.

"If that were my niece, I'd be flipping the fuck out, too," she says, stroking his back. "Don't blame you."

"I'm sorry," he says, hating that everything smells like fish and rice vinegar. "This was supposed to be romantic and all I have to offer are a few sushi rolls that look more like sushi blobs and a sob story."

She smiles, looking around at the mess. Literally every surface of the kitchen is covered. He has no idea why she would be impressed by this but she looks flattered. She lifts the bag that she'd arrived with up for him to see. "I brought beer. Let's order something, and I'll show you the fuckton of pictures I have of my niece on my phone."

She leads him into the living room by his hand and it's remarkable because he feels—instantly better. It's always like that with her, and it never fails to surprise him. She has this ability to instantly relax the vibe of any room that she's in. She's comfortable to be around, positive as hell, and not to mention totally in charge. Will loves all of these things.

They occupy the wait for pizza talking about their nieces and siblings, swapping aunt and uncle stories until Will forgets the shock of his morning—he hadn't wanted to worry Chris on set, so he's been bottling up the stress all day—and after adding two beers to that chat he's as relaxed as he can be on the couch, Mia's legs slung over his lap and her fingers running through his hair.

"So what would make you feel better?" she asks. "Disney or horror?"

"Both of those things make me feel better," he answers.

"You are one fucked up dude."

"Actually, when you think about it, it makes sense."

"I sense a rant coming on."

He grins, watching her smile widen. "Nah. Not today. Though I will tell you that conversation totally knocked Chris and I's first official date out of the park.” He holds up his hand for a fist bump and she meets it eagerly, grinning from ear to ear.

"You know what I think? I think you need a big blubbery fucking cry." She goes over to the DVDs—he can't even call it a DVD shelf, as it's more of a DVD _wall_ —and selects something after a quick search. Obsessively alphabetized movie collection, hell yeah. (Being home alone all day leads to the most ridiculous domestic projects.)

He laughs. "Forrest Gump? Oh my god, how did you know that was one of my 'I just kind of want an excuse to cry' movies?"

"Dude, it's _everyone's_ I just kind of want an excuse to cry movies. Especially when you can cuddle up." She winks, pops the movie into the DVD player, and flops down into his arms. "Hold me."

"Oh, please. I think it's you who's going to be doing all the holding today and you know it."

"Why you gotta bust my game, Sherrod?" she asks, winking and kissing his cheek. "C'mere. I'm gonna cuddle the shit out of you.” She gathers him close, which is hilarious considering how much bigger than her he is, and then continues, “Okay, so, be honest. Which parts like, totally set you off? Just so I can prepare."

By the time the credits are rolling they've both cried a little and laughed a lot, and there's a decimated pizza box and an empty six pack on the coffee table. Will has his head in her lap and she's rubbing the back of his neck and shoulders in slow circles, thinking about how much better he feels and how close he is to just sliding right into unconsciousness. She's the perfect mixture of body heat and cool fingers and her voice is pitched just right. He closes his eyes.

The next thing he knows he's waking up, unsure of how long he's been asleep, and Mia isn't with him. He squints down the hall, listening, breathing out when he hears her in the bathroom.

They meet in the hall. She smiles, slides her hands up his chest and asks, "Can I steal something to sleep in?"

Shit, it's late, then. He offers her one of the largest shirts he owns, then goes off to change himself. It's almost midnight. He isn't sure if he's ready to go right back to sleep—they'd napped for hours—but there's no harm in getting comfy.

She finds him in the kitchen, tossing garbage and bottles and putting the dishes into the dishwasher, comes up behind him and hugs him, pressing their bodies together.

"Mm. Hey, good lookin'." She stands on tip toe to kiss the back of his neck and he smiles.

It's amazing; it's only been maybe six hours but he already feels completely reset and relaxed, as if the whole horror of his day had never even unfolded in the first place.

He turns in her arms and leans down to kiss her. "You are awesome."

"Truth," she replies, kissing him back. "Takes two to tango, though."

"Wanna tango, Mia?" he asks, voice lowered an octave. He holds her around her tiny waist and kisses the bend of her shoulder, bare because of how wide the neck of the borrowed t-shirt is. He feels her shiver and takes that as a good sign, then picks her up and deposits her on the island top and kisses her.

"Damn, you are a big boy," she breathes into his mouth, naked legs sliding around his hips.

"Is that a yes?" he asks, arousal bubbling beneath his skin.

"That's a fuck yes," she answers, bunching his t-shirt in her hands so that she can get them down the seat of his pants and over his ass to haul him in closer. "Should buy a step stool or something; so much easier to kiss you like this." She kisses him until his lips part and then maps the inside of his mouth with her tongue.

She feels so good. He loves how easy it is to smooth his hands down her curvy body. He loves the warm, heaving firmness of her breasts. He loves the sweet smell of her skin and the way that she wraps around him like a vine. Before long she's grinding herself against the bulge in his pajama bottoms, kneading the flesh of his ass and kissing down the column of his neck. He goes from zero to sixty so fast that the blood relocation makes him dizzy; he doesn't even think about it twice when she puts her fingers in his hair and presses him down.

"Okay?" she asks, leaning back on one hand, and he pushes the t-shirt up her thighs and then up around her waist to get it out of the way.

His mouth goes wet with anticipation. He nods, sinks to his knees on the rubber mat beside the island, and presses his mouth to the inside of her thigh. He doesn't think he's ever had the urge to say no to kneeling between her legs, to the thought of getting to put his mouth on her. There isn't anything quite like it. There are times when it takes nothing more than the scent of her pussy on his chin to keep him hard without a single touch for hours.

He breathes hot over her panties, kisses her mound and repeats, over and over, letting her get used to the scratch of his stubble-covered lip and chin through the thin material. He licks and tugs, and isn't sure whether that's just saliva or her or both, but before long her panties are soaked and she lifts up so that he can slide them off of her legs.

She's shaved clean except for a neat patch of hair just above her lips and he breathes over it, loving the scratch of it over his nose and upper lip. He kisses her there, then above the button of her sheathed clit, then softly down the seam of her outer lips all the way down to the counter top.

"Shit," she breathes, hooking her legs over his shoulders.

He takes his time, licking at her lips, suckling the bumpy flesh between his lips up and down on either side, then licking, then lapping, until she's puffy and hot and rocking into his mouth. It goes right to his head, her obvious pleasure, and he flattens his tongue over her and licks up her seam hungrily, then wraps his lips around the shape of her clitoral hood and draws on it.

" _Fuck_ , baby," she whimpers, shaking. "Yeah.”

He shivers under the encouragement and licks over her broadly, working her clit against the thickest part of his tongue and gently steadying her with his thumbs so that he can lick between her lips. She's slick inside, and he can feel her entrance gape as he passes it with the tip of his tongue. He repeats these long, firm licks until her hips are churning and her wetness smeared all over his chin and mouth and nose. Her clit is as hard as a rock and jutting out from its fleshy drape and he grins, leans in and flicks it with the tip of his tongue.

"Jesus," she hisses, twitching away. "Tease."

He strokes her with his thumbs, just inside her outer labia, which is swollen dark and glistening wet. "Thorough."

"Agree to disagree." She grins wildly down at him, and twists her fingers in his hair. "Suck me."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, cheeks hot as he takes her clit and hood roughly into his mouth, avoiding it with direct touches but suckling and flicking around it, underneath it, beside it, until she's grinding against him again.

"Fingers, come on, baby."

Shaking, he steadies her with a thumb and twists his wrist, letting his pointer and middle finger part her and penetrate her, all the way to the gaping pink of her pussy's entrance, which clamps like a vise around his fingertips. He rubs there, little circles to spread the slippery wetness of her body, as he drags his tongue around her clit.

He's so turned on that his dick actually _hurts_ , but he just falls into the muscle memory, letting her use his tongue and lips as he presses one and then two fingers up inside of her. He thrills at the elastic heat, at the wetness that drips down his palm and wrist as she opens up around him. He can't help but make noise as he licks at her, opening his mouth wide over her pussy and taking in as much texture and taste as he can, wrist twinging as the minutes tick by, as she fucks herself down around his fingers.

"Another," she gasps.

He eases a third digit inside, pinching just above her hood and licking, licking, licking below, shaking with sympathetic arousal as she gets closer and closer. Her thighs are trembling and her body twisting unpredictably, eyes shut and face bright red. She inches to the edge of the island, wraps her thighs around his ears and holds on.

"Good boy," she praises, riding down against his mouth, panting. "Fuck. Fuck, yeah. Wanna come all over your pretty face. Hm? Can I? All over your mouth?"

His cock throbs, lifts and tents his pajamas and he gasps for air, buried between her throbbing, flushed pussy lips. He can only nod frantically in response, then hold on as she goes wild, hips bucking and clit throbbing and her whole pussy clenching up. There's a tiny gush of fluid and it goes down his throat and across his open mouth and he groans, dragging her hard against his chin to catch all of it. She shakes through the aftershocks, her hands moving over and through his hair.

"God, so good," she moans, and the compliment settles in his chest and seeps outward warmly.

"Bedroom?" he asks. Frankly, his knees are shot, though he doesn't want to admit it.

"Second; legs unreliable."

"Not really a problem," he says, lifting her right off of the counter, laughing when she squeaks and wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, and carries her all the way through the house, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom.

She laughs, bouncing as he sets her down on the bed, and sprawls out with a hearty groan. "You guys have the best sheets."

He can't really deny that. Grinning, he kneels on the bed. "Our sheets are your sheets."

She watches him, head tilted, looking deliciously sexy—her hair is messy and her cheeks still tinged pink, legs spread; she's swollen and wet and her folds are on display and god, he just wants to bury himself inside of her. But he waits, and she smiles.

"Take off your clothes?" she asks.

He strips out of his shirt and pajamas (hadn't bothered with underwear) and she watches him, eyes going dark as his cock bobs free and taps his belly.

"Fucking gorgeous," she says, as he stretches just so, showing off every inch, every muscle, every hard line. He knows how good he looks and how much she enjoys his body.

"Preference?" he asks, kneeing over to her and stroking her smooth thighs.

"Do you have that slimline bullet handy?" she asks.

_Oh, fuck._

He groans, kisses her as she traces the knobs of his spine, and then down and over the curve of his ass and in between his cheeks. "God. Yeah. That—fuck, yeah, please." He gets the toy, and a bottle of lubricant and a strip of condoms, practically vibrating out of his skin with want.

She rolls over on top of him, setting the silver toy aside in favor of kissing him first. He sprawls under her, panting softly. "Want to get you nice and warm and open, fuck you a little—" He groans. "—then turn the toy on and ride your cock. Think you can hold out that long for me?"

"That depends on how cruel you are," he says, already ten steps ahead of her as she strokes his chest and belly and thighs.

"You've had a rough day, so maybe I'll be nicer," she replies, words sassy but her smile sweet as she leans down to pay attention to his nipples. "Mm. Want to see all of you." He complies, spreading under her, and after a few long, wet kisses across his abs and pelvis she's breathing hot over his cock. He throbs, spills a drop of pre-come and feels his ass clench up in anticipation.

"God, Mia, feels—so good," he moans.

She's already feeling where she wants to go, massaging his perineum and cheeks and thighs. "Mm—you need something inside, babe? Now?" The urgency compiles, sprawling like a blot of ink from his belly down through his hips. It's been a long, stressful day, and the idea of a gentle stretch and press inside of him makes his cock pulse on his belly.

"Please," he says.

“Lift up for me.”

She warms the lubricant between her fingers, kissing at the base of his cock and over his balls before tracing the shape of his rim with a fingertip. Her nails are cut short and smooth, and at the press of her first finger he breathes out, warm invasive pleasure flooding in, like curling up around a heated blanket. He loves being penetrated—he loves giving over, feeling his body open, loves feeling the inherent trust required, loves feeling taken care of.

It doesn't take long—two fingers is more than enough, hardly wider than the bullet, and soon she's replacing her fingers with the smooth metal, turning the pointed end gently around his stretched, slippery rim.

"God," he moans, bending his legs at the knee and holding himself open for her.

“Breathe out for me, love. That's it. Let me in."

"More, please, just, keep—" She fills him to the end of the toy, and his chest hitches desperately. "Oh fuck yes, oh _fuck_ please—" She gently pulls it out, then gently pushes it back in, and god it feels so good, so perfect. He almost reaches for his cock but twists his fingers in the blankets at the last second.

He gasps at the drag of her tongue along his cock. She gives him a few long, wet, generous sucks with her mouth, then pulls off with a wet smack, licking the crown. "Want this big, hard cock in me," she says, straddling his waist, keeping one hand behind her around the base of the bullet.

The thought of her tight pussy around him and that bullet filling his ass so well at the same time is overwhelming, but he wants to feel it. He groans, hands obediently at his sides as she rolls a condom down around him, then continues working him open with the toy.

"Put some more lube on my hand," she says.

He trembles through that, her hand wetly stroking his rim and the toy moving in and out of his ass. He stares down at her pussy, naked and wet and so close, at her lubricant-streaked fingers smearing over his stomach and chest. His nipples are tight and his cock bobbing, needy and full.

"God, please, need you," he breathes, rutting up, and she grins, stroking his round pecs.

"Ready for the vibration?" she asks, playing with the knob on the end of the bullet. She sits up, spreads her legs over his pelvis and lets the wide crown of his dick rub up and down between her lips.

"Oh," he moans.

She drags her hips back and forth, soaking him with her moisture and watching his face twist up. "You like that?"

"Please. Fuck, _please_." She's so hot, so wet, and he already knows how tight she'll be around him.

She makes him wait, but finally sinks down around him, eyes fixed on his face. He whimpers, feels his muscles cord and bulge and his fists ball up. He sees white behind his eyelids—she feels so good that for a moment he doubts his ability to last, and then she goes still and twists the bullet on to the lowest setting. The vibration thrills up his balls and spine and he sobs, reaching out and grasping her waist out of reflex.

"You can touch me, baby, it's okay."

He cups her breasts, thumbs her nipples and then strokes back down over her ribs, waist, hips, and thighs, panting. The toy is making heat and urgency spread, so much faster than simple friction could, and then she starts to rise and fall, dragging her hot, slick pussy up and down the shaft of his cock.

"Oh my god," he moans, pressing up.

"Fuck me slow," she says, eyes riveted on the expanse of his muscled torso as he is forced to slowly, slowly fuck up into her. "God, yeah, just like that. Doing so well." She huffs out a breath. "More vibration?" He nods frantically, and she turns the dial, and carefully angles it up and in, rubbing it past his prostate.

"Mia," he cries out.

"There we go."

"Oh my god, that feels amazing."

Her pussy tight around him and the toy in his ass is tricking every nerve into a frenzied sort of sexual shock; he pants, and lets his body sway back and forth between the extremes, watching the muscles in her arm tick as she fucks him and _fucks_ him.

They go through this three more times until the toy is at full power and buzzing so loudly that it's even louder than their noises and breathing. His thighs are spread and she's crouched frog-style over his cock, bouncing on him, her hand working between his legs tirelessly.

It's too much. It's perfect.

He can't concentrate on her. He just lets go, lets the vibration and his aching cock take over. He can feel himself leak fluid and pre-come into the condom—it's so wet that he worries it might just slip right off—but he just breathes, and breathes, and watches Mia's breasts bounce and her hair fly around her face.

She gets off at least once or twice more, sobbing and clutching around him. When she's exhausted, she leans back on her hands, her gorgeous body arched back, and puts all her focus onto the toy, on fucking his ass fast and hard.

"Ready to come for me?" she asks, voice ragged. Her pussy is clenching and hot around him, pulsing like a heartbeat and he can't take his eyes off of it, off of his thick shaft splitting her open. She presses the vibrator up against his prostate and lets it go still, then begins riding him again.

"Right there," he gasps, thighs shaking. "Oh god just keep it right there, right there, oh god, I'm—gonna come, don't stop—"

"Good boy," she pants, bouncing, "good boy, that's it, come in my pussy, come on. Ass so fucking tight—"

He digs marks into her hips when he comes, fingernails latching on as he bucks up and fills the condom. It's intense and it lasts for a solid sixty seconds, rolling through his body in waves until his back goes loose and he collapses, sucking air down like he'd been strangled. All he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the bullet buzzing in his ass. He strokes her skin, eyes slitted open as she moves the toy inside of him lazily. She sits up off of his cock, strips the condom off, and she grins and leans over to kiss him.

"Messy, sexy man," she breathes, fisting his half-soft, sticky cock.

He shakes with laughter. "God, you are incredible."

"Not so bad yourself." She keeps fucking him, wrist rolling casually, but with every other pass she eases the vibration setting until it's off. His skin hums with it, still, but now he can feel the shape of the toy alone and the tacky drag of lubricant all over his ass. "Relax, love. I'm gonna ease this out." It feels just as good going out as it had going in; he breathes deeply through the removal, his ass holding on until the last possible second.

And then she's just there, sitting lightly on his hips, not even touching his twitching cock. He closes his eyes when she starts stroking his naked body, touching him everywhere; his ears and his jaw, his chest and belly, his thighs and calves, until he's a quaking mass of flesh and bone on the bed. She brushes her fingers past his lips and he takes them into his mouth, sucking them to the last knuckle with a tired, needy whimper.

"So good," she sighs, working the digits against his tongue.

"Can I—can I clean you off?" he asks.

He tugs her forward until she's sitting lightly over his face, and he takes his time, licks her clean even though he's not crazy about the taste of the latex residue or the lubricant that's sort of gotten everywhere. It's lazy and warm and slow, the flat of his tongue finding every slick, every dribble, and by the end of it she's shaking and whimpering and his tongue is buried deep inside of her pussy and her fingertips are poised over her clit and she's rocking, trembling and hot.

"Oh, god, Will," she sighs out shakily. "Lost track—"

He hums, letting her feel the vibration over her overly sensitive pussy. "Love making you come. Come on, sweetheart. Come on, one more time."

She throws her head back and braces one hand on the headboard, angling herself differently. He can feel her flutter and clench around his tongue and presses harder, one hand on her ass and the other on her thigh. She almost smothers him when she comes but he doesn't mind, just breathes through his nose and lets her ride his tongue. It's mostly dry—she's just so _done_. She shifts back onto his chest as the orgasm works its way out of her system, eyelids falling sleepily.

"Jesus," she sighs.

"William, actually, but you can call me whatever you like after that."

She laughs, swatting his shoulder. "Between you and Chris, I swear."

"Our sarcasm has become sort of hive mind."

"I reserve the right to mock as I so desire." She flops onto her back at his side, tangling their hands between them. "Love you."

"Love you too, darlin'."

"Better?" she asks, kissing his knuckles.

"A lot. Thank you."

"My pleasure. Like, fucking literally."

"We don't have to sleep together on date nights if you're not up for it," he says.

She smirks. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? When would I not be?"

He smiles, sliding a wide hand over her waist. "You know what I mean."

"You know I don't do pity or obligation fucks."

"I know," he replies, kissing her hair. "It's just—with the three of us, we're always sticking our hands down each other's pants or dicks in each other, and you don't get that from Chris. I just don't want you to feel like it's all about sex, or left out because Chris doesn't want you like that. If you just want to watch a rom com or get drunk or smoke or talk shit about your co-workers—I can do all that, too."

She smiles, rolling against his chest. "You keep us all honest, you know?"

"I love you. Every one of you. I just—really want this to be amazing."

"It already is," she says, "don't you think?"

He kisses her, smiling. "Point taken."


End file.
